


Liam Doesn’t Know

by great_turkey_calamity



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Car Sex, Cheating, Emotional and Physical Infidelity, Emotional and moral grey areas, M/M, Not Beta Read, Smut, this was originally going to be more smutty and less heavy but y’all know me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_turkey_calamity/pseuds/great_turkey_calamity
Summary: Liam doesn’t know that Alex and Henry do it in Henry’s van every Sunday.Heavily inspired by the song Scotty Doesn’t Know by the band Lustra.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Liam
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79





	Liam Doesn’t Know

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this listening to early 2000s soft/emo rock lol, Alexa play Dirty Little Secret by All-American Rejects

He’s not sure how they end up like this, week after week.   
  


It started as it always does, with a lie. Last week, that lie was that Alex had gone shopping. This week, he’s in church, or so he’s alleged. The very thought of him in church makes Henry want to laugh. He knows the truth, though. He knows it all too well.

He remembers the first time he met Alex; it’s clear as crystal in his mind. Pez had dragged him off to some sort of on-campus Greek life party— Sigma Chi is the only name really ringing a bell to him— and well, there was Alexander Claremont-Diaz, in all his jubilant, radiant glory. After several shots of liquid courage, and an embarrassing pep talk from Pezza, he finally summoned the strength and willpower to talk to him. 

An hour later, he was laying in a stranger’s bed with his back blown out, a first name and a phone number scrawled on his torso in permanent marker, easily hidden beneath his shirt; you’d have to look for it to find it. He’d had a couple smokes, found Pez, and gotten teased the entire way home on their mutual walk of shame.

They both stayed at home the next day, nursing bottles of Pedialyte and nibbling on club crackers. 

“Talk to your boy-toy yet?” Pez asked from the floor, his voice low and husky, scratchy from all the shouting that went on the night. “He was _fit_.” 

Henry had chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve got his number in my phone. Still haven’t got it scrubbed off my chest.”

A shocked noise was quick to bubble up in Pez’s throat. “A little minx, that’s what he is.”  
  


“Tell me about it,” He’d snickered in return, thumb hovering over the call button. He sighed, turned off his phone, and threw it on the couch cushion next to him. “I don’t know. I need to know who I’m about to involve myself with.”

“I’m on it,” Pez had replied from his pile of throw pillows and thin blankets, already pulling up Instagram. “His first name’s Alex, right?”

“Right,” Henry answered, taking another sip of electrolyte solution to get down a couple of ibuprofen pills down.

“Do we have a full name?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard someone call him Diaz earlier in the night; I haven’t got a clue other than that.”

“Ooh, found him!” Pez had cheered triumphantly, scrolling avidly through all the pictures on Alex’s account.

“Anything interesting on him?”

Pez hummed in confirmation. “First year law student, huge political and environmental activist, bit of a geek—“

“Say no more,” Henry interrupted, burrowing into the couch, a coy little smile lighting up his face. “I’m sold.”

It was then that Pez let out an uncomfortable, unfortunate hiss. “Are you in a mental state where you can handle upsetting or shocking news?”

Henry felt his heart leap from his throat. “What did he do?” He’d dared to ask, pins and needles in his skin. 

Pez had flipped his phone around, and there was Alex, lips pressed to the cheek of a charming scruffy young man, a strong arm wrapped around his waist. “He’s got a long-term boyfriend.”

“Christ,” He’d breathed, absolutely mortified. “I’m a home wrecker.”

“You need to give him a ring,” Pez insisted, face suddenly very sober. “This— this is serious, Hazza.”

That’s exactly what he did. It had taken every last bit of energy in Henry’s body to keep himself from yelling Alex’s head off.   
  


“You need to explain yourself right now,” Henry told him, playing with the collar of his jumper as he paced back and forth in the kitchen. “Because if you’re seeing him, and trying to get fresh with me at the same time— I just can’t do that.”

Alex let out a loud, long sigh. “I do, and I’m sorry for not doing so earlier.”

As it turned out, things were— and still are— quite complicated. Alex and his boyfriend, Liam, are very on-and-off, both sick of each other, but too comfortable with each other and too afraid to call it off for good. The last shot for Alexander was when Liam started to see Spencer, a mutual friend of him and Liam, and someone Henry knows from quite a few of his elective courses.

“Would he care if we saw each other?” Henry asked, gnawing on his bottom lip, not at all sure where he stood on any of this.

“I mean, he’d definitely get mad,” Alex had admitted hesitantly. “But he’s not innocent here either, and I know that you won’t tell anyone.”  
  


Henry wasn’t sure whether he ought to be relieved or offended. “How can you be certain of that?”  
  


Alex’s laugh spilled out from the phone’s speaker, like brilliant sunshine on a cloudy day. “You’re getting your master’s in English literature and creative writing. You wore a beige cardigan and suede, heeled boots to a frat party. Forgive me for thinking that you don’t exactly live for drama.”

“You don’t have to be rude about it, you know.”

“Look— I just can’t handle any additional shit from him right now,” Alex said, something caught in his voice; the beginning of tears, irritation— he just wasn’t sure. “I need to know if you’re in, or out. If you’re in, I promise that we’ll find time for each other. We just can’t disclose anything.”  
  


It was then that Henry actually had to take everything into account. Does he decline to keep his morals clear, or does he chase the feelings of fearlessness and ecstasy that he felt last night with Alex? Decisions, decisions.

“Look, if you’re really that hung up about it, we don’t have to—“

“I’ll do it,” He blurted, heart like a jackhammer against his rib cage, his body flung over that invisible line that he’d been so careful about crossing.

“Are you sure?” Alex had asked after taking a few seconds to process this information. “We really don’t—“ 

“I know we don’t,” He’d confirmed. “But I _want_ to.”

There was a nervous clearing of the throat on Alex’s end before he spoke again. “When can I see you next?”

What Henry hadn’t been expecting was the instant arousal that flowed through him due to those words; he was practically drowning in it.

“Surprise me.”

The dim, dirty bathroom of a local gay club.

Henry and Pez’s apartment.

Liam’s bed.

Today, the second level of a parking garage. He has to give it to Alexander— he knows how to keep it interesting, how to keep them immersed in the thrill and the rush of it all. Sex with him is never the same twice; the last time they met up, he was sweet and affectionate, kissing Henry and holding his hand and spending the night keeping his warm. Today— this morning— he’s absolutely pissed. About what, he doesn’t know, but Alex is huffing and puffing and biting like he’s got something that he needs to prove.

“Lying to your boyfriend about being in church,” He muses, swatting Alex on the ass and delighting in the way he whines and draws closer. It’s a bit odd and cramped with the two of them in the front seat of Henry’s Cadillac Escalade— he’s used to lugging home groceries and a very drunk flat mate— but he can’t say that he minds it, not one bit. “I think you’ve hit a new low today, darling.”  
  


“Shut up,” Is Alex’s grand rebuttal, closing the gap between them with a passionate, strong kiss, taking whatever he wants without asking. The look on his eyes when huffed those two words— specifically when he brought up Liam— was nothing short of alert and irate. A self-protection technique. They must be fighting again. Pulling Henry out of his thoughts, Alex licks into his mouth, closing the impossibly small gap between them. “You know that you love it.” He continues when he pulls away, grinding down into Henry’s lap.

Henry hums, guiding Alex with his hands firmly planted on his hips, coaxing soft sighs and grunts out of him, watching and listening like this is there last time. “I do,” He admits, trailing gentle, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, forcing him to slow down and take his time, making sure that he savors this moment. “How do you need me?” He murmurs against a tattoo of the North Star on his shoulder, kissing it briefly; he’s asked what it represents time and time again, but the question is always darted around or ignored completely. He doesn’t like being hasty and making assumptions; if Alex is having fun, then he’s having fun.

“Rough,” Alex breathes in return, hips still canting up, up, up, desperately seeking any kind of friction that he can find. “Want you to take me over.”

“Shh, shh,” He coos, knowing that Alexander has a tendency to get caught up in little instances like these; always wanting to go as fast as possible before burning out completely. “Be patient, we’ll get to all of that soon enough.”

Without warning, Alex reclines the front seat, and Henry’s heart nearly falls out of his chest when he ends up flat on his back. He holds Alex’s hips, his grip firm, trying to ignore the way he squirms around in protest. He’s not desperate, but it’s easy to tell that his self-restraint is rapidly wearing thin. 

“Patience,” He reminds him, not about to fight him on this.

“I don’t _want_ to be patient,” Alex all but growls. “And you know that.”

“You’ve got quite the attitude today.” He notes, not at all intimidated by this little show; Alexander’s actions definitely speak louder than his words. 

“And what are you gonna do about it, sweetheart?” Alex asks, all snark and agitation, nearly popping of a few buttons in the process of getting Henry out of his shirt. 

From there, everything is a flurry of hands and mouths, of moans and swears. Alex manages to knock the back of his head on the steering wheel on the way down to his knees, and he laughs when Henry asks if he’s okay.

“I’m fine,” He responds, unbuttoning and unzipping Henry’s jeans. “You care too much.”

This takes Henry aback. “I don’t care enough— _fuck_.” He curses, fingers threading through beautiful brown curls. 

In a matter of minutes, Alex has reduced him to a husk of what he was earlier in the morning. He can’t shut his mind off to save his life; he’s left wondering once again if Liam’s caught onto them. He’s grown quite close to both of them, both as individuals, and as a couple. He spends quite a bit of time with them at their apartment, they grab Pez and all go out on Friday and Saturday nights together. At face-value, Liam doesn’t treat him any different than Pez or any other mutual friends. He digs deeper. He’s seen fights between the two of them. Spencer has definitely been brought up, on numerous occasions, and it usually shuts Liam up. Never once has he tried to bring Henry into the narrative.

He doesn’t know— doesn’t have a clue. Henry isn’t sure if it excites or disgusts him.

Alexander does something absolutely unholy with his tongue, and Henry groans and yanks a fistful of hair. Alex giggles, and he does it again, and again, and again. 

Henry has to pull him off, it’s just too much. Everything is too much in this scenario. The theatrics, the desire, the pleasure; they’re a damned duo if there ever was one. The warm air filtering through the van is fogging up the windows. He remembers the way he’d kissed Alex’s hands and breathed warmth and life into them when they’d started down the street; he’s got bad circulation, but it’s even worse when it’s cold out. He pushes the memory down when he feels a hand on his thigh.

“Don’t want to finish yet,” He explains, head thudding against the seat. “Want to make you feel good.”

“You’re out of it today,” Alex observes ever-so-astutely, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Never better,” He replies, choking back a laugh. If Alex knew— another thought pushed down. “Rough night last night.”

Alex rises back up— without hitting his head this time— and plops down into Henry’s lap. He doesn’t pull him into another searing kiss, nor does he leave a million tiny purple bruises along his skin. His hands frame Henry’s face, gliding along the smooth hollows beneath his eyes. 

“Have you been taking your melatonin?” Alexander asks, and Henry hums, opening his eyes. It kills him, to see his eyes filled with such genuine concern, such tangible, warm compassion. He’s always within grabbing distance, but Henry can’t ever quite reach him. 

“I have.”

“How many pills a night?”

“Two,” He responds truthfully, his breath leaving his body as Alex kisses beneath each eye.

“Move up to three, maybe?”

“I dunno,” He sighs, pulling him closer. “That stuff can give you some pretty odd dreams if you take it often enough.”

A whisper of a kiss by the corner of his mouth. “I worry about you, baby.”

A deep sigh. A bitten tongue and a heavy burden of a heart. “I know you do, love.”

Henry doesn’t fuck him rough and heavy like he’d initially wanted, and Alexander doesn’t seem to mind very much, if he even minds at all. They take it slow and steady, Alex in his lip with his hands braced on his chest. They’re scarcely this tender with one another, but it seems that they’re both feeling especially sentimental today. They moan in unison when he runs up and Alex bounces down, clutching senselessly at one another, like they’re they're the only entities in a rapidly spiraling infinity, tethered to one another for safety and survival. 

Alexander is babbling when his orgasm starts to steadily approach, and Henry shuts him up with a kiss and redoubles his efforts. They finish together, Alex sobbing whilst he laughs, put-out and not entirely able to believe that this cataclysmic mess is his life. The next few minutes are filled with frantic kisses and soft shushing, their emotional peaks on a sort of five-second delay in comparison to their bodies.   
  


In defeat, Alex presses his forehead to Henry’s shoulder, slumped over and sighing. He’s not sure what he ought to do, so he settles on a peck to his temple and rubbing his back. 

“I want to break up with him,” Alexander admits after a few minutes of dead silence. “I really do.”

His heart skips a beat. “I—“ He stumbles over his words, trying not to misspeak. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve known for a while, now.” Alex clarifies, starting to sound hoarse. “I just don’t know how to go about it. I mean, we’ve together since we were seventeen. I don’t wanna hurt him, as silly as it seems.”

“As long as you two are stringing each other along like this, that’s the only thing that’s going to end up happening to him.” Henry tells him, not sugar-coating anything. “You need to be upfront, and you need to be serious. If he’s half the man we both know he is, he’ll understand and let you go.”

Alex laughs, melodic and filled with melancholy. “You make it all sound so easy, Hen.”

Something inside him shifts, makes his eyes water. “Never said it was _easy_ ,” He insists. “Just that it was necessary.”

More silence falls between them, consuming and pensive in a way that still feels natural. 

“Tomorrow night,” Alex blurts.

Henry’s brows furrow. “Tomorrow night?” He questions. 

“That’s when I’m doing it,” Alex elaborates. “Tomorrow night.”

At the same time that his heart is pulled down into his chest by its iron chains, it tries to take flight for the first time since late August. 

“I’m proud of you,” He manages, his words quiet and earnest. 

Alexander looks at him like he’s hung the moon, and it breaks him. 

“I’m proud of you, too.”

Henry catches a glimpse of the two of them in the rear view mirror as he’s driving them and Pez the next morning. Liam leans over in an attempt to kiss his lips, and Alex casually turns his head to the side, effectively shutting him down. Liam doesn’t seem to notice or mind much, and settles for pecking his cheek instead.

There are knots in his stomach when he turns his attention back to the road. 

Liam doesn’t know, and he never will.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @bi-disaster-fsotus


End file.
